


Pretty Boys and Lover Boys

by GrumpyHellion



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, But it takes a while, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Klance Week 2016, M/M, More Fluff, and they fall in love, but it sin't graphic, klance, shallura - Freeform, side shallura, there are plants, they be at uni, they have sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:54:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8309272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyHellion/pseuds/GrumpyHellion
Summary: They fall in love in bars and coffee shops.It takes a while.But they end up happily living together in a mightily self destructive manner.





	1. The first time I saw you

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to write a story.  
> Then klance happened.  
> So this happened.
> 
> Also it's Lance before Keith but it's fairly self explanatory.

Don’t go near the pretty boy. He’ll hurt you.

 

The first time you see him. Night out with friends, your old girl long forgotten, Nyma, some bitch who screwed you over left you for a guy with big biceps and no shirt. You go to the good places the best pubs, the cheap ones with good company. Then, drunk enough to be brave you go to the cool joints, where hipsters and stoners hang out, where the girls with too much make up stand and the jocks with too little brain go. Boring. The other places were dull but the hipsters let you in – Clever is the new cool and you friends are the smartest in the place – but tell you to leave when Pidge gets into an argument about the moon landing. Who knew? Then, as you leave he pulls up.

He’s on a red bike, motorbike, in black clothes, black leather, walks past you, looks through you. Had you seen him before? Maybe. The mullet was familiar, but all black was something that they all wore. He could have been anyone. He was no one else. Please be mine. Please see and speak to me.

 

You went back once or twice. Alone. The others teased you, then warned you, then gave up and left you alone. You would see him sometimes.

Standing, too cool to pose, and letting the haze swallow him, the cigarette smoke eating him alive. Eat me too. Eat my heart out. Eat me alive, bloody and raw.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

First time you see him. Lover boy. Lights are a dim haze and you have cloaked yourself in smoke and cooler friends who you hate. You see him. To say he was a light through the gloom would be clichéd. He wasn’t. But even so…

He was an electric blue, lit by too many phones off some old t-shirt that certainly did his body justice. He didn’t see you. Probably anyway. He was laughing with a bunch of friends, who you knew by sight and reputation only.

The geniuses (not geeks) and then Shiro and Allura, and Shay. They were activists or something. The handsome man and the beautiful woman who were the definition of soul mates and who were basically your brother and sister, and then one half of the best couple in town.

Hunk and Shay. Shay and Hunk. The nicest power couple, who would come crashing down on your head if you hurt one half of them.

and him?

Lance.

He was known as a fuckboy from a friend of a friend, who apparently gave up on her after two months. Then there was a guy another girl and another girl. All three months or less. You hadn’t seen him then. Just word of mouth. They didn’t do him justice.

Fuck you fell.

Spent the next two days stalking him on Facebook and Instagram, didn’t follow him or like a single post just looking and saving all the photos of him that you could find.

You didn’t see him much after that. He hung out in different places to you. But when you did see him you tried to ignore him. He is not good for you. You knew. Ignore him and you’ll stop feeling. Except. He looked good in any light. Day night the crappy orange of the streetlights. Tan glowing. What you would give to see that tan up close…

You hide behind those friends you hate again and let the smoke swallow you and take you away.

  



	2. Life goes on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Urrrggggg.... here goes nothin'....

ONE AND A HALF MONTHS SINCE THEY FIRST SAW EACH OTHER

 

You work three days a week, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday a few hours each day. Something to help with the rent. Coffee shop, coffee and cake do you have a loyalty card? our specials today are what’s your name? So life continues. Hunk, Shay and Pidge come here sometimes. All the time really. Shiro too when he’s not too busy. You make them special orders. Off menu. They don’t get a discount. When it’s not busy, late evening, closing up, they will stay behind and you talk. Life continues in the best way.

 

Pretty Boy. He’ll hurt you. I don’t care!

 

Love me pretty boy. Notice me pretty boy.

 

You shouldn’t. I will.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

They told you to stay away from him. Lover boy. Can’t stay still for a moment, a new girl, boy each week. Lover boy. You shouldn’t go near him. Should. Shouldn’t. He’ll break your stone cold heart they say. Drawl. Maybe it would be fun. Know what it’s like to feel. Not some cold fuck then leave in the early morning. A lonely walk home.

But, he’ll break my heart.

Stay away from lover boy.

 

See me lover boy fuckboy fuck me up good and proper hurt me to hell and back. I want to be yours and want you all over and in me


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I now feel like I must upload them all tonight...  
> I have the feeling this won't be finished until next week though...  
> Sorry....  
> There will be a semi-conclusion soon though. Possibly tonight?
> 
> This chapter is mostly Lance with like a line of Keith.

Fridays. You hate Fridays. Working until 6. You clear up. rush rush rush extra cream? can I help you sir? This isn’t hot enough! Yes sir? No sir. Of course miss. I’ll se what I can do out loud, fucks sake muttered under your breath. But there is a little plus side. Your friends with grins wider than the Cheshire cat come in late and you make them the biggest coffees sitting with them for a while before you shut up. It’s a good few hour or two. 

They take over the corner, laptops and cables spread over every available surface, pens and books intermingling and spread everywhere. Technically you’re still open for fifteen minuets but no one is coming in and it’s quiet, getting dark, so you sit with them. Who needs coffee at this time on a Friday? In winter too. Talking. Hunk and Pidge are geniuses and talk in long scientific words that have been hyphenated one too many times, but you find common ground with Shay and Shiro, when he isn’t too busy. He spends a lot of time with allura and the hipster kids. He says he knows Keith really well but won’t give you his number. Mostly you talk about books. The Cursed Child is a popular one right now.

 

It’s crap Shay!

It’s Incredible!

Crap!

Incredible!

Such witty, in-depth analysis.

Be quiet Shiro! This is important!

Of course my dear Shay. Why don't you read that book you have there? It looks better than whatever crap Lance spouts out.

Excellent plan. FUCK YOU LANCE.

I hate you Shiro. Don't you give me that innocent face! URGGGGG!

Don't be such a drama queen Lance.

...

Watcha doing pidgeon?

I am being a genius again, as per usual. I am creating an algorithm to manage the best pattern for clubbing on each day of the week, to ensure maximum intoxication and enjoyment.

Sounds fun. When can we try it?

Tomorrow. I am also planning to hack into the Uni database and change my name if they don’t do it soon, because they have not changed it yet and I filed for a name change on official documents two months ago.

Isn’t that illegal?

Probably. But they won’t know as I. AM. UNTRACEABLE!!!!

No you aren’t.

SHUT UP HUNK!

She actually leaves a trail but I suspect she does that on purpose to annoy them as the trail it’s self is difficult if not impossible to follow.

The CIA or something should hire you.

They offered. Mostly to stop me trying to hack into their servers. Almost did too…

And…?

Well I almost hacked in what else –

I mean the job pidge.

Oh right. I said in a few years. Maybe. Or I’ll go work where matt and dad work.

Cool. Hey Shay, you’re very quiet now... Reading I guess? What are you reading anyways?

….hmmmmm…yes….

…shay…? Dawwwww, she’s so cute! I wanna pinch her cheeks!

No, nu uh, you are going no where near my Shay.

But Huuunnk…

NO! Leave her alone! DON”T TOUCH HER!

…What’s happening…?

Nothing beautiful go back to sleep.

…ok…

…

I WANNA PET HER SHE IS SO CUTE!!!

LANCE! YOU ARE NOT TO GO ANYWHERE NEAR HER SHE IS READING! DON’T STEAL MY COFFEE! DON”T STEAL SHAY’S COFFEE EITHER! But by all means take Pidges. That’ll be funny.

Shit this is Pidges co-

Put. It. Down.

Yes yes sorry sorry I didn’t mean too im sorry never happen again-

Good.…

…

Sooooo. Laaaance. Seen your pretty hipster boyfriend lately?

Fuck off Pidge.

ha! He’s gone bright red!

shut up! He. Is . NOT. MY. BOYFRIEND.

yeah you’re totally right. You just follow him everywhere, you’re more like a creepy stalker. Have you actually spoken to him yet?

…no…

Mmmm, yes I think he’s beginning to notice you Lance.

HE NOTICED ME!? SHIRO HE NOTC – oh no you’re just being a complete cocktart again

Well when I say noticed I mean he’s getting a bit concerned that you’re following him everywhere.

Be quiet… and stop grinning and looking smug, why are you grinning? PIdge…. why…

Heads up Lance. Customer.

Urg. That’s why. Hello! Can I hel…p you.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. He works here. Ok. It’s simple. You go in, and you buy yourself coffee. Easy. Just a coffee. You don’t want anything to do with him. You shouldn't go in... You need coffee. That essay remember...? Screw you subconscious brain shit. Here goes.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

fuck. pretty boy is here. fuck. pidge I hate you.

 

I want a coffee. Strong. Large. Lots of sugar…Hey Shiro.

hey.

Right away! (why is your voice squeaky?) Take away or eat in? (Don’t stay don’t stay don’t stay) We are closing soon so –

HEY! Keith! Come sit over here with us! We wanna talk to you! (FUCK YOU PIDGE)

… In then.

Great. That’ll be £2.80 please. (fuck fuck fuck I almost touched him fuck fuck fuck)

Here. Keep the change.

Thank you sir. I’ll put it in the pot. I’ll bring your coffee over too you. Just take a seat. (shit)

Right.

 

You think you managed to do a pretty good impression of pidges death stare, but according to her derisive laughter and Shay’s quiet snigger (wasn’t she supposed to be reading?) this was not the case. You delivered said coffee and disappeared to clean. The counter was practically gleaming. The time and diligence you put into your work. It did however reach the point where you could no longer convincingly pretend that there was still work you had to do.

So you came over and sat down.

This is what is known as a mistake.

Because it turns out he’s adorable, and hot, and funny, and relatively clever all at the same time.

fuck.

 

Hellooo Lance.

Hi Pidge. Don’t be a twat.

My speciality.

What are you guys talking about?

Well, we were just talking about nuclear fission and how you could theoretically make it possible but it would require –

Magic Hunk. It would require magic.

No!

Yes.

 

you just watch them for a while arguing over something that means nothing to you.

 

‘You know what they’re talking about?’ Keith. Pretty boy is talking to you. Stay cool.

Not a clue. It’s all mumbo jumbo to me. You?

Not really. I understand bikes and that’s as far as I go with engineering and physics.

Yeah I’ve seen you riding it sometimes. How long have you had it?

Couple of years.

It’s beautiful.

Not as beautiful as – that cake. Can I have some?

Oh yeah! Chocolate fan?  
Always.

 

IS ISN’T IS ISN’T IS ISN’T IS ISN’T IS ISN’T IS ISN’T

SHUT UP!

yes shiro.

Good. What were you saying allura?

isn’t.

PIDGE!

 

This is fucking heavenly. Did you make it?

God no. I wish, but it is Maurice who has this godly talent. I bake a mean apple pie though.

Really?

No I buy it from Tescos. You can come round some time and try it… What’s your number I’ll text you my address.

…ooookaay. Here.

…

Cool! Aaaaannd aadddressss sent! With a smiley face!

… Thanks?

Don’t sound so hesitant! It’ll be fun!

…Right…

Your smiling! Ha you are you are smiling, the emo hipster kid with crap hair smiles! You are looking forward to hanging out with a total loser! admit it!

Never. I’d sooner die. What do you study?

English! I do a degree in bullshit basically. Just learning how to bullshit. It’s great fun.

Seem’s like you’d be an expert at that.

fuck you keith. fuck you. What do you do?

I’m enrolled at the flight school here. It’s good.

You wanna be a pilot! Awesome!

Yeah. I guess. Ah fuck.

What?

I have to go. Sorry.

Awwwwwww…

Sorry. Bye. Thanks for the coffee.

Bye Mullet! Get a hair cut!

 

He gives you the finger on the way out. Yeah you’re screwed.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

You went to his place that night to see him walk in, alone looking weary and beat down. You would love to soothe that wearied brow. He didn’t see you. Hidden in black and smoke. You didn’t leave until all this lights had been turned off.


	4. Lovesick fools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
> 
> FEELINGS!!!!
> 
> Ok so I hope feeling. Maybe.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you like it it really makes my day when people say die things :) thanks

3 WEEKS SINCE THEY FIRST SPOKE

 

You wonder if he would ever come round. Of course he doesn’t. You text him sometimes though. Silly things. Facts that no one cares about (did you know a group of pandas is called an embarrassment?) and stuff. How’s your day going? Funny thing happened today! and so on. There are days when you fancy you see him on your street. Wishful thinking. You close the door in some guys face. No thanks. You’re not my pretty boy. But thanks for walking me home. You needed the company.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

You should’ve visited weeks ago. Gone back to the coffee shop. Something. Coward. Shiro looked at you sadly when he saw you. Pity. Fuck him. Like he knows. He didn’t say anything. You left after two drinks. You went to Lance’s house again. Didn’t knock. Coward. He wasn’t alone this time. Leaving some guy at the door. Laughing. Shutting the door in his face. You waited for your heart to stop hurting. You watched the lights turn off. Then left.


	5. Evenings and alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two in one day because I'm feeling nice.
> 
> And this is where sexy stuff happens.
> 
> And more swearing. 
> 
> So be warned.

4 WEEKS SINCE THEY FIRST SPOKE

 

Date night for Hunk and Shay. Pidge’s brother is home so she is busy thrashing him at something nerdy and competitive. Allura and Shiro are doing…movie nights? Or each other. They weren’t very specific. Do you go out? Alone? Would that be pathetic?

But you have no more movies left to watch and need a drink or twelve because this week was a hellish one and reviving waters must be found.

So this night you wander from bar to bar, try 5 different beers and hate them all, sample a cider that’s actually Malibu and coke and finally end up out side the hipsters club, watching the 16 year old girls who want to be adults totter in their too high heels. Watching the hipsters judge them. Watching them judge you.

You go in.

They let you.

You say the t-shirt is ironic and you loved the original show with a passion. It’s not a complete lie. But the re-boot is better. Retro. Cool enough to enter. Cocktails now. Never mix your drinks. An old mans words of wisdom. But the pints are forgotten. Start over. I’m no lightweight! Not a complete lie. Anyway, you started at 6. Its 12 now. They wore off. You’ll be fine.

 

So sitting at a bar waiting for this feeling of _something_ to go away and you see the pretty boy. The one who’ll hurt you. The one you can’t keep away from. And through the haze of brightly coloured cocktails you watch him.

He doesn’t see you. You’re just another wannabe. A kid you doesn’t know his place. Except he does see you. He see’s you first. Saw you first. Or that’s what he murmurs in you ear when he sits by you.

He drapes himself over you. Lover boy is what he says. Kiss me lover boy and take me away. All the people here are boring. You know he’s playing. You know it’ll hurt. You let him. You let him hurt you.

Kiss me lover boy.

Kiss me first pretty boy.

He complies. Begrudgingly.

What you want is irrelevant.

But still,

Touch his hair, go as far into his mouth with your tongue as possible, until you are asked to leave, drag him out into the street, out of the club, away from the haze. Winter. Cold. The cold can go and whistle for all you care now though. Bike. Did he drink, probably, Malibu and fruit flavours are on your tongue, but that might just be you, and you don’t give a fuck anymore, you can die happy again. Cling to his waist; nestle in his hair, lights and sights mean nothing to you.

Drag kiss shirt off chest and back and legs and thighs and all of him all over all of you strong and muscles cling to him like a cat drowning, with sweat and fingers somewhere on your body.

You fuck.

There is an unglamorous account of what happened. It wasn’t a glamorous affair. It was sweaty and sticky and close and hellish and heavenly.

You watch him fall asleep. He’ll be gone by morning. Pretty boy who’ll hurt you. So savour the last little moments with him again.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The night you gave up. He was alone, mooching over a drink that was bright blue and matched his eyes. There wasn’t any point in trying anymore. So you didn’t. Not a drop of alcohol had passed your lips (unless that wasn’t _just_ lemonade…) and you were making a completely sensible and conscious decision to have your heart broken. Time to feel again.

 

Don’t go near him. Whispers in your ear. Forgotten words of a long dead relative. He’ll break your stone cold heart. Except…

You wrap your self around him and make him blush. Whisper secrets in his ear. Tell him to kiss you.

You first he says.

Fuck him. But you want it, him badly enough to comply.

Then he’s on, in, around you. Out you go – did someone tell you to leave? – on your bike, and you refuse to fuck in the street although it is tempting and he mutters something under his breath. Street names. You know his street. You went there twice and saw him leave. You’re more a stalker than he ever was.

He curls up into your back as you speed through the night. Midnight city is playing in your head. He is literally driving you crazy. You pass two red lights and speed three times. But no one notices. There.

He drags you in pulling, occasionally ripping, off clothes. He seems desperate. You would judge but so are you. Desperate for him. Desperate for him to have you, for you to have him. He seems interested in your muscles. In your back, in your thighs, in your body. You don’t give a fuck what he’s interested in. There are bits of him that caught your eye a while ago and as this is a one-time heartbreak you are going to enjoy them. He has a tattoo on his shoulder, Halsey plays in your head, and you give it your full attention.

 

You fuck until you can’t anymore. Then you fuck again. You fall asleep fast. You have no nightmares or horrors. You just sleep.

 

Waking up early is a curse I suppose. Maybe a form of insomnia? You never bothered to check. But today, the curse is bearable. Not life threatening. Four AM listening to the rain (why does it always rain?) watching him. He’ll turf you out in the morning. Late morning. Humiliation. Or keep you as a fun fuck. You had fun. He looked like he had fun too. Maybe a few weeks? Maybe a few months. You look forward to them. He’ll get bored but, it’ll be worth it.

Lover boy is beautiful when he sleeps.

You count his freckles in the streetlight. You count the glow stars on his door. You count the bruises on your neck, arms, legs, body. He didn’t see them. He made some. But some were old.

Go back to sleep now. He might still be there in the morning.


	6. The evening after the morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end!
> 
> I have no idea when this will finish...

Pretty boy. He’s…

He’s still there when you wake.

He’s still there.

 

You stare at him for a full 10 seconds then run to vomit.

Never mix your drinks.

Breakfast.

There should be bacon in the fridge…?

Maybe…?

Or just left over indian…

 

Of course you dance. Whatever crap is on the radio is your jam when you are hung-over, and dancing helps process the alcohol quicker (Pidge says that is bullshit. You know she lies.) And bacon has to be crispy, because not crispy bacon is not cooked bacon. So dancing to bacon and cooking bacon, you hear a noise and there is the pretty boy, wearing your clothes, looking at you with a look of amusement and pure murder on his face, wearing your favourite trakies, with your t-shirt thrown over his shoulder not covering any part of his torso sufficiently. There. And there. You knew you bit him. Apparently quite a few times…oops…

sorry not sorry.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He wasn’t.

He left.

Apparently you weren’t a fun fuck.

… And already there is sting, a small feeling of spite.

Hurt him back? But not too much. What is wrong with you? Normally you'd be happy to steal everything he owns and piss on the remains. Urg. Who cares. Take something, to remember him by. You wear his clothes, his trackies (because skinny jeans may look good but are not that comfy) and seal a t-shirt and go to take his food. It smells of him. You breath it, him in again. You are so keeping this T-shirt. Breathe. Except, you can smell bacon. And you realise you’re hungry. And you move to the door, to your escape, except it’s through the kitchen.

And you realise, he didn’t leave.

I mean, fucks sake you idiot, it’s his place, his bed, certainly not yours. Are you hungover...? What did you drink again...? And he’s standing there in the kitchen, except not standing, dancing. How had you never seen him dance before? And there was no way you are going to interrupt him because this, him, he is so beautiful. Dance lover boy. Dance and steal my heart. You stand there, in the doorway for at least a lifetime, until the huger pangs twist in you again and you mumble something under your breath. So he turns around.

And stares.

Primarily at your face, until he sees you wearing his clothes, and the bruises.

 

‘Um. Sorry. I’ll go change.’

‘No no no no. It’s fine. They suit you. Just…put the shirt on. Your distracting me from breakfast.’

‘Right. Yeah I’ll do that. I’ll…I’ll go’

‘Why?’

 

The look. He looks like you’ve ripped out his heart and stamped on it.

Maybe you’ll stay a little while.

But…

 

‘I mean, I don’t have to but I don’t wanna bother you so maybe –

‘No. You’re staying. You need breakfast.’

‘…ok’

‘Good. Here. Bacon. Guaranteed to cure a hangover. That and dancing!’

‘No. No dancing. But yes bacon.’

 

The grin on his face is terrifying and you forget yourself for a second. He moves closer, closer, closer, and you pull him in, desperate for any moment you can get with him, wanting him on you, around you, in you. Fuck your poor heart it deserves to break. What has it ever done for you?

You think he wants to dance with you but God knows that’s not happening. There’s a reason you don’t dance. So pull him in and kiss him hard, bruise him on the neck, kiss his neck and cheeks and lips and teeth and nose and eyelids and back to his lips. There are his hands all over you, pushing you closer to him, finding individual muscles and bones, fingers running along them. But he pushes you away.

Why?

You don’t want him too…

Except he doesn’t look horrified or shocked. That was a look you had gotten used too. He’s looking at your chest. And touching each bruise, cut, scar.

 

Me?

No. This one is. And this one. But the others… No.

Hmm. Shame.

 

He kisses each and everyone. Twice. You cum. Twice. He helped out with that. Maybe you are a fun fuck. Maybe he’ll keep you for a few days longer.

Then you have breakfast.

And a shower.

You don’t go home that day, and stay with him, you don’t want to leave, and he doesn’t let you.

Clinging to you on the sofa, you feel like you are drowning. What pretentious bullshit. But it’s true.

You don't fuck anymore. You just talk. About him. About you.

About everything you can talk of in a day.

 

You don’t ask when he’ll dump you.

You give him your address.

You kiss him goodbye. Five times.

You leave.

You don’t expect to see him again.

You cry, for the first time in ten years.

 

Eleven hours later (no. You weren’t counting.) he’s at your door with a grin and a bottle of whiskey.

You are so fucked.

 

‘Why are you here?’

‘Um duh. You’re my boyfriend now. No take backs. And we are going out tonight!’

‘…I though you were gonna fuck and dump me.’

‘How could I ever dump someone as wonderful as you? I could certainly fuck you a few more times though.’

‘ha. Why are we going out?’

‘Pidge finished her algorithm! finally... PUB CRAWL!’

‘…Ok.’

‘Go put better clothes on. Then pre-drinks, then out!’

‘…Ok’

 

2 hours and half a bottle of whiskey later you are out of the door, still able to walk (just) and clinging onto lover boy Lance for dear life.

He’s yours for a while longer.

And you are going to cut him and bleed him dry.

 

 


	7. A conversation on a sofa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semi-conclusion.
> 
> I plan to write more.
> 
> Also KEITH IS SPEAKING FIST HERE EVERYTHING CHANGED AND KEITH IS NOW FIRST.

THREE MONTHS FROM WHEN THEY FIRST SPOKE TO EACH OTHER

 

Lying on a sofa. You’re not completely sure which legs and arms are yours but he is on top of you on your chest and talking to one of the numerous plants above your head.

 

He is very engaged in his discussion.

You are very engaged in his face.

Then he looks down on you.

Serious.

 

This is it. He’s going to dump you.

This is three months. You’ve been together for three months. Waiting for it to end. It hasn’t yet. But today. He looks so serious.

You tried to smash his heart. It wasn’t possible. It was only fair since he took your and stamped on it very hard, leaving you a bit confused, feeling properly for the first time in 10 years. So you tried to get him back but he seemed to laugh, dance it off. 

Opening mouth... Speaking... He's gonna say it...

 

Did you put something in your hair?

…shampoo…?

Oh. Well it looks nice.

…Thanks…?... You can stop staring now…

Sorry…

It’s ok. I don’t mind.

 

You need to pay more attention to what he’s saying.

He looks so awkward and adorable. This was worth it. He was worth it.

 

Goodbye lover bye. You could never really be mine. Could you?

But,

I wish you were.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

There is no way you are letting him go. Nope. No way. There is no one quite a perfect as he is. You’ve been staring at him all day, surreptitiously, you’re pretty sure he didn’t notice, because today he looks particularly beautiful, did he put something in his hair?

 

Did you put something in your hair?

…shampoo…?

Oh. Well it looks nice.

…Thanks…?... You can stop staring now…

Sorry…

It’s ok. I don’t mind.

 

Shit he thinks your being weird you feel like your blushing this is not good he’s smiling that means he’s noticed somet-

 

You’re blushing

Shut up no I’m not I would never blush you’re lying.

…

Now you’re staring.

…

What is it Lance?

… Do you like me?

No.

…oh…

I love you. Moron.

Oh right. Do I like, get under your skin? Metaphorically I mean.

Weelllll… Literally. Yes. Obviously. Metaphorically…? Nah. You don’t bother me much.

 

He’s sliding his hands up your chest. Grinning. Stop touching me. You’re confusing my brain.

 

Right. Right right right

Ha. You’re adorable.

 

He is really close to your face now. Still grinning the little shit. Where are his hands going now? I’m sure there are parts of your body that you did not know you had until you met him. This level of proximity is unhealthy. Why aren’t you kissing me now? Stop now before my heart does.

 

Nooo…not adorable…

Yeah a little bit.

Fucks sake.

 

What the fuck was he doing. I mean you solved the problem of him not kissing you but seriously. What a tease. He knows what he does to you, doesn’t he?

You are pushing him down into the couch eating his heart out through his mouth. He seems to be having a nice time.

He pushes you away for a second –

 

I love you

I love you too. I love you so, so much. Now less talk more kiss.

So does this mean you aren’t dumping me?

…what?

 

Ok what? cock block much?

 

Well you know.

…?

 

I AM SO FUCKING CONFUSED DOES THIS MEAN HE’S LEAVING ME BECAUSE I’M NOT COOL ENOUGH AM I NOT COOL ENOUGH I KNEW THIS WAS GONNA HAPPEN WHAT THE FUCK I AM SO FUCKED AHHHHHH WHY IS HE DUMPING ME

 

  1. I don’t know.



 

THAT SOUNDED SQUEAKY AND STRANGE WHHYYYY

 

It’s been three months. You usually dump people around now.

 

NOOOOOOOO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NOOOOO. BAD KEITH. BAD. NOO.

 

…You think…you think I am going to dump you? You. The most beautiful pretty perfect person ever who is so entirely lovely, and makes me laugh about all sorts of stupid things and doesn’t get scared when I cry? Who lets me hold onto them all the time without thinking I’m being clingy? Who eats my food and seems to actually like it? Who will get drunk and go out at a moments notice? Who is so wonderful that they drag my ass back home when I can’t and stays with me all night so I don’t choke on my own fucking vomit? You think that I would just leave you? Fuck and dump? Is that really all you think of me?

ok stop now. I get it. sorry.

No! No I want to know! Tell me. Is that all you really think of me?

…No

You’re lying.

No! I just, just thought…can we do this later?

 

Fuck no, you are hearing this now, push him down on the sofa as he begins to leave and tries to run. No you are hearing this now.

 

No. Fuck no. Now.

…Please don’t be angry… Please don’t be angry with me…

…talk.

It’s just… I heard a lot of stories that you were a fuckboy, who had a person for three months at the most then left the for another pretty thing and I thought that I would just be the next in this long line of idiots who fell hopelessly in love with you, and you know, a little bit of me wanted to have my heart broken by you because you are beautiful and, so beautiful, and you fuck like an angel, and you make me laugh so fucking much and you make me happy, and I don’t feel worried or scared or have nightmares when I’m with you and I wanted you since I saw you and now?

I have you! but you’re not really mine you never were, never will be even though I still want you and I think how I could be a better person for you, I gave up smoking!

For you!

See?

You make me better. And if you were wondering, then yes you did break my heart and make me feel again, you break my heart by fucking looking at me like that with those fucking eyes which I want to gouge out and take with me to stare into all day long and I love you. I love you so much and it broke my heart to know you didn’t, wouldn’t love me the same, that you were only in it for the sex and –

 

I love you too.

…what. Also you interrupted –

I love you too.

…no…no you don’t that’s –

I love you too.

…but…why…? How…?

 

He’s curled up on your shoulder. Kissing your collarbone. You have to remove him for a moment. It’s like he never wants to leave though. He seems so scared. Won’t look you in the eyes. He doesn’t believe you.

 

I mean yes. sex is good. sex is nice. I’m not gonna complain about that. But you are the one person who will listen to me just talk. And not get mad about it.

Do I need to do a speech?

Yes.

 

He’s so quiet. He’s not smiling. You want him to smile. He deserves to be happy. I love you so, so much…

 

Hmmmpf. Fine. I love you because you are the only person who will listen to me talk about dumb things and not get annoyed when I don’t shut up, I love you because you remember what coffee I like, and food, and you knew what to get me for my birthday.

I love that you water my plants and look after them when you don’t think I’m looking. And that day when I was away, and I came back and heard you talking to them. Yes I heard and it was adorable.

I love that when I cried, when life seemed like shit, you didn’t just leave me, you stayed with me all night, even though you didn’t have too, and hugged me for hours and didn’t complain when I cried onto your t-shirt that you like and looks awesome on you I might add.

I love the fact you care more about your cat than shiro or your family or maybe even me, I love how you read the most random books, what is it this week? Palmistry for beginners? And last week it was something about ninja cats. I love your nose, and how it crinkles when you’re confused.

I love watching you dance, yes I have seen you dance. And I love it. I love you. In three months, I fucking fell in love with you. Hell I fell in love with after three days. I love you.

…

Keith…Are you crying?

no.

Liar.

Stop kissing me. And stop grinning.

No.

…fine

…

…

You still need to dance with me at some point.

Never going to happen.

 

I love you. Never forget that.


End file.
